More Defuckerization Of Dorks

While I’m on the subject of defuckerizing dorks: I mentioned not so long ago that I’d ended up dealing with one who can’t make a living in her chosen field so she teaches it at a community college. Every time she contacted me it was to put the blame for something she’d done onto me. I acknowledge that I might be and probably am about as wrong as dating outside one’s own species, but it’s my perspective that it’s a sign of maturity to start with the premise that your expectations are unreasonable if what you expect isn’t what the world delivers. You don’t bitch until you’ve logically ruled out that possibility. Otherwise:

A while back the deeziner dork emailed me to report that images she’d uploaded were “broken”. I asked her to be more specific, and to tell me:

  1. What precisely did you do?
  2. What was the expected outcome?
  3. What was the actual outcome?
  4. If there were any error messages, please tell me what they were, verbatim.

Seems reasonable to me. “Broken” doesn’t mean a damned thing. Never has. If someone says to you, “the window is broken”, do you know what that means? If so, shame on you. It might mean that the glass is cracked or shattered, but it might also mean that it won’t open or won’t close, or it might mean that the seal between the panes of the thermal windows is compromised so they look like hell with condensation and scale in the void between the panes. If you have to spend your life solving other people’s problems, you learn early on to ask clarifying questions. My clarifying questions just pissed her off, but she did finally get around to explaining that “broken image” is a web design term that means that for some reason the web browser displays an image of a “broken” icon or something similar in place of the expected image. (Gee, how did I manage to spend so many years as a professional web designer without knowing that? Oh… wait… I didn’t. But what did she do? What did she expect? What did she get? What were the error messages, if there were any? She never did say. She just passive-aggressively put me down by apologizing for using them there big words that uncool mortals such as myself cannot possibly grok.)

Never mind that broken might have meant that the file was corrupted and so didn’t display properly, or was optimized to the point of grotesque pixelation.

Today she reported, again, that she was experiencing “broken images”. This time they weren’t 404’s, but she didn’t say that. I again asked my clarifying questions, as I always do when some retard says “broken” and nothing more, and her reply was hostile. She attacked me personally for simply, politely, respectfully doing my job. So I sent along an email to our mutual client company’s CEO and all involved parties, including the one who teaches, saying that if she persisted in addressing me disrespectfully we would be wrapping up our business and going our separate ways.

It turned out that this time the “broken images” weren’t broken in the same way the last ones were broken. But it was my fault that I didn’t know that because I didn’t psychically divine the answers to those reasonable questions, as I apparently should have. Then, back-channeled (not Cc’d to the rest who’d been in on the thing from the start), she hit me with over two thousand words worth of passive aggressive accusations, aspersions, and assholery.

I continued along doing my thing, found that she’d installed a WordPress plugin and then ignored the error message it gave her every time she viewed the pages it generates, and decided that the problem was my fault. Oh joy. When the plugin is disabled everything works as expected, when the plugin is enabled it fails as was eventually described. Not My MF’n Problem. I am not responsible for the web site; I am responsible for the server. Accordingly, I informed our mutual client, including the CEO who is the petty tyrant, that I won’t be dealing with that woman any more and if that’s reason enough for them to terminate our business relationship I will understand and appreciate their position. What I didn’t say is that it’s my position, too: If putting up with that cunt’s abuse goes with the territory, I’m going over the horizon to a more hospitable territory.

My response, in its entirey, to the two thousand plus words of passive aggressive assholery: “I don’t need your passive aggressive bullshit. Shut up and leave me alone”. Maybe she figured that I would accept her passive-aggressive bullshit to avoid the loss of the petty tyrant client — my mail server rejected two additional emails from her after I told her to shut up and leave me alone. I suppose unreasonable expectations are her forté. 😀


Having vented my spleen, I’m now ready to go back to doing battle with that botnet that’s attacking another client’s server, and with the data center personnel who don’t seem to understand that it’s their problem, too. Ain’t we got fun?

Oh, and wine. I’m a-drink me some wine now. And smoke some reefer later, too. And pet the cat. She’s a good cat, and the only one who gets to boss me around, too. Because she’s a cat.


7 thoughts on “More Defuckerization Of Dorks

    1. happierheathen Post author

      I get to thinking in HTML elements when dealing with <idiot>web deeziners</idiot> incapable of writing HTML with just a text editor and/or considering that PEBCAK (problem exists between chair and keyboard) might explain their frustrations.

      I’ll be sure to add a wee pinch more to the bowl and think of you as it burns.

    2. happierheathen Post author

      I didn’t forget: I’m just about to burn a flower for ya. Hang loose a moment…

      Organic, quasi-legal marijuana grown outdoors in the Colorado sunshine. Oh yeah…

  1. LAMarcom

    I am not terribly great at fixing computer problems, but I ain’t bad either (networks? Fuckin’ forget it: “Just reboot the damn thing” That’s the extent of my troubleshooting for networks.)

    But… there was a time, back in the Dark Ages, i.e. DOS 5.0 or whatever, when I was pretty damn good. I could install a Sound Blaster card slicker ‘n’ owl shit. I understood dip switches, IRQ’s, and all that other DOS bullshit. I understood EMM, conventional memory and its limitations. I spoke SCSI, Parallel Ports, Serial Ports; BIOS, and could tweak autoexec.bat and config.sys better than anyone I knew who even had a computer, let alone…
    When I took a job (at the request / demand of my third wife–who had promised me a very long-lasting contract as ‘House Husband’ if I would just sell my one hundred acres of Texas and kick in thirty or forty grand to the household–of course she reneged), I ended up at the Boss’s house. (He was also the owner/proprietor) of the small print shop/office supply retail store.
    I noticed two things right away:

    1. He had 386/20 gathering dust
    2. He had a nine year-old son (Whom I suspected would love some computer games. I mean hell! I loved computer games and I was almost forty. Who doesn’t love computer games?)

    “What’s up with that computer?” I asked my Boss.
    “Memory’s all clogged up,” he said.
    “Hmmm….” I said. Mind if I take it home for a day or so? I think I have a memory ‘plunger’ at my house.”
    “Sure. Go ahead.”

    So, I took the poor, abused computer home and over the weekend, did my magic. I ‘unclogged’ the memory, reinstalled everything, including several primo games, put in an eight-bit Sound Blaster card, donated some cheap speakers and took it back to my Boss’s casa. He was not there at the time, but the young kid was. My chance to be some kind of fucking hero. (This never escaped me. Yes, I did have ulterior motives).

    I sat the kid down in front of the 386, booted her up and introduced him to the joys of X-Com and Crusader and Aces of the Deep…and cheat codes.

    Next week I got a raise (and I had an ‘adopted’ son)
    True story.


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